


Not My First Rodeo

by lapsi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Torture, Vampire Dean Winchester, happy alternate universe where dean doesn't kill his friends and benny doesn't end up totally alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapsi/pseuds/lapsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean knows a vampire can be healed.<br/>He knows only monsters can make it to Purgatory.<br/>He knows he'd prefer to put his face in a deep fryer than leave Benny and Sam alone together.<br/>What's a guy to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Wow. When Dean Winchester asks for a favour, he's not screwing around," Benny says, dryly. There's a touch of disbelief there in Benny's wide, old eyes. It's good to see Dean. Well, it's damn good, what with Andrea, then Elizabeth. Of course, a reunion would be nicer if he wasn't feeling his imminent death barrelling towards him like a freight train. But there's those pretty green eyes looking at his desperately, and Benny always was a sucker for Disney eyes and trembling lips.  
"Benny, sending you back there is the last thing I ever wanted to do."  
"I know, I know," Benny dismisses, listening to the quake in his voice. He's already decided anyway. Isn't so hard. He's not wanted to fail Dean, but this isn't failing.  
"But my little brother is stuck down there." Dean's feet shift on the floor of the alleyway. He looks dizzy, but he's trying with every bit of strength left in his broken form. Trying hard to get through this plea.  
"This would be the little brother who wants to kill me, right?" Benny asks, the barest smile in his voice, but dismay too.  
"You got access to the place," Dean replies. The place, he thinks, a year of time with Benny, silent camaraderie stretching behind his eyes. It doesn't matter. It can't matter. Sam's his job, his responsibility. Nearly his entire life. Killing vampires is what he does, right? And Benny will be back.  
"By "access," you mean "getting beheaded"?" Benny asks in his rumbling accent, shattering Dean's merry little illusion of slipping through a portal. He swallows, and tries to keep his vision straight. The graffiti dances mockingly around him, swirling, dripping away.  
"Yeah. You're right. It's too much. It's not like I've exactly been there for you lately-" he begins, the barest quaver in his voice. Benny's warm eyes meet his, firm and even and supportive. As much 'I love you' as he'll ever say, his mouth curls to a grin.  
"What? Oh, come on, Dean. You know I love a challenge."  
"You're serious?"  
"Hey, he's your brother. I say let's do this."  
"I owe you," Dean says, too much on those words. Benny begins a dirty joke in his mind, but the truth is, Dean doesn't need that. It's an out. A guilt-free out. Better Dean remember a noble end than him losing it and eating some innocent woman, or killing himself when he can't cope. A rail road, he's always thought. A nice fast train, and laying back across the tracks. It'd be over before he knew at all.

 

  
"Oh, you don't owe me nothing. Truth is... uh, I could use a break from all this," Benny says, shrugs, no eye contact. He's not strong enough to say something like this plainly.  
"It really been that tough?"  
"I'm not a good fit, Dean. Not with vampires, for sure, not with the humans. I don't belong. And after a while... that starts to wear on you. Right? Cry me a river. Like you need to listen to this," he adds, pained chuckle, self-conscious. Dean's eyes slip into protective, fraternal affection. Benny could almost cope with that.  
"Well, when you get back up here, we're gonna fix all that, okay?" Dean says, firm. Benny's surprise registers with the raise of the eyebrow, his curious gaze.  
"When I get back?"  
"Yeah, you find the portal, and your ride out of Purgatory with Sam just like you did with me, okay? As soon as I send you back, I'm gonna haul my ass up to Maine, and I'm gonna be waiting there for you when you get topside." Dean plans, firm, confident, eyes steadier on Benny. There's love there. Real, genuine love, of some form or another. Benny grins. He'll manufacture something like hope. Dean doesn't need that burden too.  
"Yeah. That sounds like a plan, chief. Let's get on with it."  
"You sure about this?" Dean asks, still hesitating. Saying the words is that much more terrifying than planning on sending Benny back temporarily. Saying the words makes it real, solid, painful and stark. God, it had to be that, didn't it?  
"Not my first rodeo, man," Benny says, all of his kind nature in setting Dean at ease, a smile in his eyes. He won't cry. If you make this a good bye, Dean's gonna know. He watches the blade come back. Some arsenal the kid is carrying there. That machete looks plenty sharp though. Clean. That would be good. Make it quick.Dean extends a hand, but it's not enough. Dean smells so edible, and Benny can't forget for a second he's predator and his best friend is prey. The hug is too brief. He feels Dean's warmth, his shape and his life. He'll remember that for the eternity he'll spend down there, he's sure.  
"Thank you," Dean says, and Benny feels his chest thrum with vibration, and his eyes close for a second. No crying, Benjamin. You're too old to start bawling now. What would your maker say? He has to speed it up. Dean looks like he's not going to do it at all, and he _has_ to. Sam's the most important thing to Dean's happiness.  
"Well, come on. You a wimp?" he asks, shutting his eyes, turning his chin up. He says a good bye to everything, thankful for all this world has give him. Except the vampire thing. Well, okay, there's a lot he won't miss. Mobile phone networks. Mosquitos. He's almost smiling when he hears the whistle of the blade, but there's no peace, no colourless space. There's a sharp sting at his neck, which doesn't make sense. He's seen Dean Winchester fight a year straight. He doesn't miss point blank range. Maybe he's too emotional. He opens his mouth to laugh, to call Dean an amateur, but he feels fingers at his throat staunching the flow, then retreating frantically. "Jesus, Dean. You could at least-" he begins, squinting one eye open. Dean's mouth is red, bloody in the corner, cupped hand near his lips. Benny doesn't make sense of the sight, and then his eyes widen suddenly, and he lurches forward to smack Dean's hand away.  
  
  
  
" _What are you doing_?" Benny asks, deep and wrathful, but Dean doesn't answer, swallowing furiously. Benny spins him while he's off balance, slamming him against the boot of the impala and reaching around to try to pry his lips apart. It's slippery, and Dean's lips are tight, jaw contorted with the effort of keeping the fingers out. "Spit that out. _Now_ , Dean."  
"Mhhmmh- all gone, all gone-"  
"Throw it up then," Benny demands, snarling a little.  
"Doesn't change anything, Benny. I'm gonna turn-"  
" _No_. Throw the damn blood up and- and- oh, you dumb son of a bitch." Benny lets him go, backing up with a glare, fingers at the already healing throat.  
"My mother was a perfectly lovely lady, who would have kicked your monster ass, Fangface," Dean mutters, rubbing his jaw, trying to lighten the situation.  
"This is why you called me here, isn't it?"  
"No," Dean lies boldfacedly, quickly, then a beat later, sheepishly. "Yeah, okay, all along, don't be mad."  
"I should kill you, you stupid bastard."  
"Would you save it till after I turn or you're kinda defeating the purpose? Can't get through to Purgatory in this state... give me a couple of hours." Dean steps away, smirking triumphantly. He concentrates on cleaning the machete on his shirt, and looking up at Benny apologetically. Then Benny punches him. It feels tangy and sharp, and he's not sure if he's bleeding, or he's still tasting Benny's blood. A nasty burst of pain and instinct to flee follows, and Dean reels backwards. Bad. Not as bad as Cas. Worse than Sam. He's penciling it in on the sliding scale in his mind even has he speaks. "Okay. I deserve that."  
"No. You deserve me putting you into a damn coma for lying to me, like that, boy."  
"There's something about alleyways," Dean says, dryly chuckling, but he looks a little sick. "...are you okay? Your neck is gonna be alright?"  
"Vampire, Dean. As you're going to be shortly if we don't do something."  
"Not my first rodeo," Dean smartasses. Then he faints. Benny tuts, and stares at him for a few minutes, anger warring with his need to protect Dean. He puts him over his shoulder and carries him to the car, scowling heavily, but still very gentle with the man's unconscious form.  
  
  
Dean shudders, skin pallid and body shaking. Benny remembers his maker holding him through it, and as unpleasant his memories of him had been, it seems cruel not to. At least Dean will have someone care for him through this. Benny rifles through the boot, pulls out handcuffs and fixes Dean's hands against the car door. He'll be pissed, but Benny's not letting him back there. Not even for his little brother. If Dean's stuck vampire, Benny will look after him right. 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean wakes with a pounding headache, eyes stinging with the brightness around him. He feels sick. A fever that could blister his meat right off the bones. His skin tingles over every inch in contact with his clothes, the scratchy bed he lies on. The warmth at his wrists. Tight. He moves like a caged animal, hunter instinct, and the warmth at his wrist catches and he can't move, just struggles, trying to duck his head away from the light.  
"Morning," Benny says, but sleepily. He isn't usually up through all of the day, honestly. His hat is at a crooked angle, and his eyes are still harsh. Dean's hopeless fear dies down, gradually. He leans back a little bit. His jacket and a few layers of his clothing sitting by the door, his boots neatly beneath that, and, when he squints a little more, he can see it's a motel room.

 

"...can't pretend this is the first the I've woken up in handcuffs," Dean says, dryly, voice grating through his bravado. "Usually it's someone better looking I wake up looking at."  
"Way I see it, you're powerless, and you ain't a vamp yet. I know, because you still smell edible. So quit your whining, Beefsteak, or I will... " Benny's brow lowers. He fixes the hat, stands up, and walks over. "You ever seen a meat tenderizer, Dean?"  
"Yes. Easy in the threats, asshole. You want to explain why I'm handcuffed to a headboard in the lamest way possible?"  
"Because you ain't killing yourself."  
"I need to rescue Sam-"  
"Who will promptly kill you for being a monster."  
"No. He wouldn't."  
"Right. Yeah. He loves vampires. Me and him were getting all chummy when he found out what I was."  
"I mean he wouldn't kill me. Why do you just have handcuffs?"  
"They're yours. Why do you just have handcuffs?"  
"For... reasons..."  
"Fantastic. Please save me hearing about that, Dean. No more talking, or you're getting a gag too."  
"What the hell are you going to do with me?"  
"Find you a nice, comfortable cell, get your brother out, and then pretend you died. You can't go back to him. Not like this.."  
"Skipping over how creepy that all is, Benny, you know I'm not stuck vampire, right? There's a cure." There's a few beats of silence. Benny's eyes open, wide, sudden hope, but betrayal next, thick and fast. He'd probably progress to rage at never being told, but Dean follows up quickly in explanation. "You just can't feed on anyone. You can cure a vampire that's never fed on a person. I go through, bust out Sam, meet back up with you in Maine with my body, everything is peach pie. I'll make sure I'm there for you, this time."  
"No. Absolutely not. You couldn't find the doorway."  
"I went through there with you."  
"And I guided you every step of the way, dumbass. Not to mention you're going to still have to explain to Sam. And not eat him, which is gonna be damn hard being newly turned," Benny says, sounding protective, but he walks over and carefully unscrews a bottle of cold water.

 

"You've got a fever. Happens. You've been throwing up too. I never thought one guy could have so much in his stomach."  
"Shut up," Dean says, but the water looks tempting. He feels furiously thirsty. Benny doesn't let him drink, pours it onto a handkerchief and carefully drags the wet clothe over Dean's forehead, touching the pulse points delicately. Dean sags backwards with relief, eyes closing. "Thanks. I won't be hungry in Purgatory, right? I mean, I didn't get hungry there, not really. Biological shutdown... I guess like Hell..."  
"You've been to Hell?" Benny says, squinting, sitting on the bed and carefully taking Dean's jaw in an authoritative manner. Dean's too sick to protest.  
"...yeah, but man, that place had worse weather than Florida. I bailed. Cas... bailed me."  
"You still get hungry down there, Dean. If you're a monster. You don't die from it, sure, but you get hungry." Dean shivers from the fever. Benny squints with concern. His voice is deep, almost secretive. "All that time, every last one of my instincts screamed out for me to eat you. Pin you down, latch over that thrumming pulse, and take my fill. Especially when you were bleeding."  
"But you didn't."  
"Well, dead men don't do much in the way of busting out of Purgatory," Benny says, dry. He drops Dean's jaw. Dean just stares up, watching Benny pour out a little of the cold water and scrub his fingernails. He isn't concentrating. He's in awe. Benny's self-control must be unheard of.

 

"I want you to open your mouth a little. Is this... this cure the real deal, or are you lying through your teeth again, hm, boy?"  
"Real deal."  
"Are you going to try to save ...Cas this time too?"  
Dean's mouth pulls into a little frown, subtle and hidden. There's a lot of emotions in his eyes as he shrugs. "Not a good time. Benny."  
"Now's the only time to tell me what's going on between you two before I throw myself into danger."  
"Well, then, never is a good time. Wait, what do you mean throw yourself into danger? You better not mean what I think you mean throwing yourself into danger."  
"I can find the portal quicker than you. Sam won't try to kill me for being a vampire. Well, probably not. Up in the air about that one, myself."  
"Uh- no freaking way?" Dean says, sarcastically. He tries to move from Benny's fingers, prying his mouth open and running across his gums curiously. "Dude, enough. Hands out of my mouth. Not hygienic," he says, muffled, and Benny's rumbling chuckle issues from his chest as he turns chin up more.  
"I'm checking how turned you are. If what you say about the healing _is_ true, I need to wait till you're turned before I leave you."  
"No. You're not going," Dean snaps. He actually bites at the fingers, now, frustrated. He misjudges the lightness of Benny's mood. His teeth barely brush the skin before Benny's got his throat, turning his eyes up. Steely cold fingers dig into his jaw like a muzzle, and Benny's jaw tightens.  
"Don't. Do. That. Again." he murmurs, eyes harsh and dark. "If you're gonna lie to me, screw me over every time you need a favour and not even let me call when I'm lonely or-" and Dean's scared, too scared, but also oddly touched and encouraged by the grip. He leans down and kisses Benny's hand across the pad of his thumb, cold. It shakes against him, tightening the hold. Benny jumps back as if scalded, staring Dean down. The fuzzy, bloodshot, guilty eyes look up, squinting against the light. "You're not gonna screw my head around," Benny hisses lowly. Then, shoulders set firmly, coldly. He steps back, pretending it never happened. Fever. Dean's not thinking straight. Something. He'd been in Purgatory a long time with Dean. Lonely hiking. A damn near eternity together it seemed. If Dean was interested, Benny would sure as hell know by now. He goes on as if nothing happened. "I can feel your fangs. It's a matter of time. Go back to sleep, Dean." Benny stands, wrapping the coat around him, and he slips away. Feeding, probably. The door closes after him. Dean looks back at the handcuffs once, but there's no way he's getting out of this position. He sags like a sleepy child, chin dropping to his chest. The pain is too much. Just a little bit of rest, right?


	3. Chapter 3

"Evening has broken, sleepyhead," comes Benny's abrupt call, and there's a nuclear reaction jammed at his nose, frying the nerve endings in his eyes out all at once. Of course, it isn't. It's a tiny LED torch bought from a gas station. Benny laughs loudly, possibly a little cruelly, as Dean wheels back and tries to bury his head in the pile of pillows again. "Definitely a vampire. I remember when my maker turned me- kept me chained up days like he always did, and he'd walk past with a cup of fresh blood every day. When we broke the wood we were anchored to, he could tell we'd been turned."  
"Tell me more childhood vampire adventure stories and I'm gonna break the headboard, and then your fucking face," Dean snarls. "You've blinded me!" Benny just laughs again.  
"Don't be a princess, Winchester. Your pretty little eyes are gonna be right back to normal in a couple of minutes." Dean is silent for several minutes, and then he jerks with surprise as there's a cold, firm hand fixing up his shirt, and almost too intimate, stroking his cheekbones, and Dean has a terrifying, and yet tantalising certainty he's about to be kissed. Then, disappointingly, there's the same slightly damp, washed hands in his mouth, pulling the gums out. He feels his fangs, nerves firing from his mouth that shouldn't. It's like being operated under local amnesia. Something is moving, separating his flesh, pulling apart his mouth, and yet, it doesn't hurt like it should. He blinks in rapid succession, and Benny's fuzzy outline is leaning over him. Benny makes vague, thoughtful sounds, tapping them with a nail, which reverberates down through Dean's skull. "There we are. Nice set of fangs. All the better to eat your brother accidentally with," Benny mutters. Dean tries to say something witty, but it's between fangs and Benny's fingers, and it comes out an unintelligible series of annoyed grunts. "Ease up. These things are sharp," Benny says, smacking him lightly, and removing his fingers.  
"Are you planning on keeping me in bondage for the day, or week, or...?"  
"Darling, if I ever tie you up, you're gonna know about it. Sailor, you recall."  
"There's a term for that. An Asian term. There was this great magazine I bought with this girl-"  
"Oversharing, kid."  
  
  


  
"...I'm hungry. I'm so hungry," Dean says, after a pause, in a timid voice. Apparently, no discussing intimacy, or kissing, or anything along those lines. His mind has more important priorities right now. The siren call of blood seems too strong for something he's never ingested.  
"Thought about that. The rules are 'no human', right?" Benny says, hefting a covered gallon jug. "Well, boudin sans saucisse. Extra fresh."  
" _What_?"  
"Pork blood sausage without the sausage."  
"You butchered a pig for me?"  
"I bought it from an abattoir. People cook with blood, you idiot. Is it... a no-go, cure-wise?"  
"I think it'll be fine. I knew I could smell something. My Spidey senses were tingling." Dean watches Benny carefully pour out a cup.  
"You're not gonna like it much, kid, but pig is closest to-"  
"Gimme gimme gimme," Dean chants, fangs out, staring at the cup. Benny sighs like a parent, advances to Dean and carefully gives him a little to drink. Dean swallows it all, and then gags and pulls a face of disgust. "It tastes like concentrated ass sans any nutritional value."  
"Because you're craving people. Which you can't have. You could get used to it, if you drank it all the time. Vampires have. Do you want more?" Dean nods, and Benny carefully raises the bottle this time, rationing the sloshing liquid. It's gross to think about at all, but drinking feels incredibly natural. He feels a little sorry for Sam having to down all that demon blood in a back-alley. And for having Satan ride his ass, but the blood thing too. His stomach should feel uncomfortable ingesting so much liquid, but it doesn't. Not at all. And pig doesn't taste so disgusting when he knows what he's expecting. Benny wipes the corner of his mouth and steps away, shoulders still tense. There's silence as Benny sits down again, staring at the wall rather than Dean. There's a lot of lost trust.  
"You're gonna have to let me do it my way," Dean says, eventually, into the darkness. "I'm too at risk if you leave me, and I can't get to Maine, and if you die, I'm stuck vamp forever. I need your blood."  
"Or you could tell me the cure now," Benny says, darkly, "I could cure you, and then I could go to Purgatory, get Sam, get out, and you and your brother could not get into so much trouble all the damn time, and I won't have to step in and rescue you from Monster Hell ever again."  
"Dude, my life is complicated. Like, book series complicated. We're... doing some stuff. Saving the world sort of stuff. It's totally Paradise Lost, but I can't really say."  
"Right. And one of these saving the world techniques is getting your asses stuck in Purgatory."  
"That wasn't on purpose."  
"No. Shit." Benny fixes Dean a cold stare, and then stands up. "I think you're gonna tell me the cure. That, or I'm going to have to get it out of you the nasty way."  
"Do you have 30 years and a control of the corporeal reality with which I'm presented?" Dean asks, dryly. That knocks Benny off balance.  
"Do I have what?"  
"I have been tortured for 30 straight years in Hell," Dean says staring up, eyes oddly focussed. There's that grim pride about him. "By the most sadistic son of a bitch in the entire Underworld. So, Benjamin Lafitte, if you really think you can get the truth out of me, you're welcome to try. Might even tickle a little."  
"...jesus, Dean. Either you're more pathological a liar than I thought or... or I'm really sorry, man."  
"Don't sweat the small stuff, right? No big deal?"  
"Well, that explains your... proficiency," Benny murmurs, several seconds of awkward silence later. He's thinking about Dean's wild grin as he tore into everyone between him and his angel. There had been something a little monster there. Benny couldn't afford to care at the time, but now it begins to make sense. Dean shrugs, sits still, running his tongue over his fangs. That conversation is not happening, with anyone, ever.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"I'm getting Sam out, and I'm not losing you, Benny."  
"...fine. Fine. But, we're doing this my way, and I'm coming with you. Goliath can bust us both out. This way I make sure you don't try to eat Sammy, and I make sure I'm there to cure you the moment we make it topside, brother."  
"Fine."  
"Fine," Benny echoes, harshly, standing up. He frees Dean's hands. He's about to back away when Dean catches his arm.  
"You might want to keep those on me till we figure out where we're gonna... leave our bodies."  
"You kinky son of a bitch," Benny says, dryly.  
"So I don't eat anyone, douchebag. Mind out of the gutter."  
"Right," Benny says, disbelievingly. He fiddles with the key and then pulls the cuffs off the headboard, pulls Dean up and spins him, putting the cuffs on behind his back. He squeezes Dean's hip with a cold, strong hand, and grabs a handful of hair to push Dean's head down into the bed. "Nice and tight, sweetheart?"  
"You're getting off on this more than me," Dean returns sharply, trying to sound dry, but he's lost the ability to speak straight, think straight. With flashbacks playing up like crazy and nothing in his life but taking care of Sam, it's been a long time since he'd had a hand on him, let alone that cold, authoritative push. He'd thought about it, once or twice, when he was washing off monster blood in Purgatory, or hidden in the bushes dealing with the one bodily urge that seemed intent on remaining to frustrate him. On the other end, Benny's a little worried that Dean's retort might be entirely accurate. He can feel himself excited in a way he's barely paid attention to for half a century, and it takes a full few seconds to convince himself to let Dean go and laugh, heavily and heartily, reassuring himself.  
"Keep telling yourself that, love. I'm not gonna go outta my way to judge you for wanting to get tied up and treated like someone's bitch."  
"Shut up, asshole."  
"You should call me 'sir', I think."  
"Very fucking funny. I'm getting more fond of the part in this plan where you die."  
"Do you want to keep the cuffs on in Purgatory, or do you not want your brother to find out your taste in-" Benny begins, laughing. Dean moves insanely quickly, spinning up and lunging for him, fangs bared. Benny barely has time to sweep him to the side, and he catches a lot of the momentum, spinning backwards. He grabs Dean by the throat and pins him to the wall, watching the anger fade from Dean's eyes. "Calm that temper down, Dean," Benny growls, forcefully, humour gone. Dean nods, falling limp. Benny lets him go, after a minute of heavy staring. "You do that again, and you won't be able to even joke through how confined you're gonna be. We have to do this safely." Dean nods, meek all of a sudden. Benny can be terrifying. His mind still from the pulsing urge of violence, back to Dean, to rational thoughts. Benny lets him go, and it's just silence except for their ragged breathing as they both calm down from the spat. That can't happen in Purgatory. They're both too aware of that.  
  
  
  
  
  
Benny remains completely silent clearing away the jug of blood, and again as he marches Dean down several back-alleys, to the Impala, avoiding any possible face-to-face interactions with humans. The cover of night is as good as any. Dean maintains he can drive, even though he blinds himself if he looks at headlights straight on, even through the sunglasses Benny puts over his eyes, and Benny's cap jammed down low. Even in this state, Dean's not letting someone else drive his baby. He accidentally switches on the stereo, finds it deafeningly loud and almost veers into a truck. Benny repositions the wheel, and lays a hand on Dean's shoulder. "We'll find a motel when it gets a fraction lighter. You've done great," Benny murmurs. Dean's surprisingly touched. He glances over, glad Benny can't see through the glasses, and nods. Praise is very rare for him. He missed Benny more than he could ever admit, even to Sam, even to Cas.


	4. Chapter 4

The motel is managed by an Asian lady who doesn't seem at all interested in Benny's excuse about jet-lag. The cramped room smells of burning dust of the old heater, and a earthy scent of mould. All Dean can smell is people. He wonders how Benny ever thought he'd keep up a normal job. How could you just be around them without feeding? There are two beds, but Benny drags them together, handcuffs his hand to Dean. There's nothing very strange about it. Everything's like Purgatory again. Survival. Necessity. Dean doesn't sleep well, though, imagining Sam being torn apart every time his eyes close. The motel was clearly just used, and human is everywhere. It's just like last time being a vampire. You smell everything, sure, but human seems to put a chain around your throat and yank you forward to feed. He says that out loud, and Benny gives him a long stare, and then says "huh", quietly. There's not a lot of conversation, especially not when they leave the next evening. Each has their own weights carried. Each is drowned by different darkness. Benny's dreading coming face to face with Andrea and his maker. Dean is silent because he's concentrating on not taking a chunk out of anyone. His fangs slide out when he smells blood on a woman walking, far across the carpark. Benny's hand slots around his arm, guides him into the car. It's a combination of guiding and forceful, but Dean needs it. He shakes and waits for them to retreat.

 

 

It's in the confines of his car again that things are relaxing. The two of them are together, fighting their own fight. It's a shared need to survive, and it feels natural. It feels like second nature. They drive miles and miles before Benny breaks the silence. "You've been a vamp before, and you've been cured," Benny remarks, not a question at all, even if he did intend it to be.  
"Correct."  
"Tell me things like that, Dean. Important things. Your trust issues aren't gonna get us both killed, okay?" Benny says, sounding angry. Dean raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking into a smirk. Bad reaction. He can't help it. He's the sort of person who pushes for the last word in arguments, and if he can't get it, he'll be so obnoxious they never walk away feeling satisfied.  
"Uh huh."  
"Do we have a problem here?" Benny asks, out of nowhere, turning.  
"No. I just don't see how that could ever get us killed, ever, at all, in any logical progression of events in any universe," Dean says, dryly, switching gears as they hit the highway. The stars twinkle. Dean loves driving at night, like you could just fly off the face of the Earth, and be swallowed by a journey.  
"It's a principle thing."  
"Principles are what people fall back on when they have zero reason to actually justify their position."  
"No, Dean. Read some Aristotle. Caution lies between secrecy and carelessness."  
"You didn't need to know."  
"And about Cas, too?"  
"What about Cas?"  
"You don't think I know you're going back to rescue Lovebird too?" Dean's eyes narrow on the road. He looks over, and then the car sharply stops.  
"Drop this right now. Do not finish this conversation."  
"No. If we're gonna run into something I'm not prepared for, I won't be able to protect you."  
"Right. I'm your greatest priority," Dean says, sarcastically, folding his arms and staring at Benny.  
"I was gonna lay my life down to save your shitty kid brother, Honeybunch."  
"And come back," Dean retorts. Benny's eyes narrow, and he scoffs gently in his throat. "Right? Benny?" Benny now isn't meeting his eyes at all. "Oh, jesus fucking christ, man, you were planning on kicking it round Battle Royale for eternity?"  
"Why would I come back? There's nothing for me here. Hate to break it to you Dean, but this whole resurrection thing? I didn't exactly expect to live past killing my nest in revenge. I tried, okay, for your sake. Human life don't exactly settle well with me."  
"Dude, tell me, if you wanna _kill yourself._ "  
"You're busy. With, oh wait, haven't told me about that either, have you? What you're always so damn busy with?"  
"Sealing the gates of Hell," Dean says, almost levelly. "And once we get out, you're coming with me, and you're gonna help."  
"Am I?"  
"Yeah. Consider it suicide watch."  
"Is our Turtledove gonna be helping too once we spring him?"  
"Cas isn't in Purgatory."  
"...ah."  
"Yeah. He got out," Dean says, roughly.  
"And I was gonna know when exactly? Oh, wait, let me guess. I don't need to know."  
"You don't."  
"Are you and Cas screwing?"  
"What the _hell_?" Dean exclaims, voice jumping an octave. "Why would you think- why would you ask- what does that have to do with anything at all? And no. We're not."  
"Dean, doesn't take a genius to figure out what it means. Hunting down someone in that place for most of a year, while they run away from you. Also, why would I believe you?"  
"Because you can trust me."  
"You lie all of the time, Dean."  
"Right, but ...not about this, okay? Drop it. Not fucking Cas. If you say anything like that again, I'm gonna stab you in a non-essential body part. I'm not..." Benny waits for him to finish speaking, and Dean shrugs. "He's a freaking angel, man. Like, he has wings, and the dude he's wearing used to be some hardcore Christian family man who lived in Pontiac. That's not cool, okay? You can't go fucking someone who doesn't even belong to their own body."  
"I'm not exactly a person either, kid."  
"Yeah you are," Dean snaps, starts the car, not looking at Benny at all.  
"You're in love with him. Dammit, that'd be just my luck."  
"Drop the goddamn subject, Benny, or so help me..." Dean says, and Benny bares fangs and chuckles. Dean's back is straightened. He wants to ask what 'just my luck' means. He wants to ask all sorts of things, but nothing is more important right now than saving Sam. They drive till morning again. The same excuse. Benny drags the beds over again, and Dean stares at him sleeping, heart racing like he's under attack. There's something he's missed here.  


 

  
Benny pulls out the little metal bottle, throwing it to Dean. His reactions are a fraction better, enough to kind of make him happy about being this way at least in terms of fighting his way through Leviathan without Cas pulling them away to himself. Selfless idiot. He sees Benny drinking in the corner, something stowed in his jacket.  
"Is that human? I'm going cold freaking turkey forward slash ham and you're drinking human?" That gets him a cold stare, Benny wiping his lips.  
"Not so gross now?" he asks, sounding bitter. Dean shrugs, glancing. Suddenly, it doesn't seem so bad being stuck vampire forever. If he just got a taste... and Benny is stowing it away suddenly, like he knows what Dean's thinking. Dean whines a little.  
"Come on, man, I'm not even sure if it counts from the bag. Just a taste, hm? I'll do anything for it, Benny."  
"Dean, snap outta it. You need to save Sam. Can't try to kill you once he sees you, can he?" Benny says, and then quieter. "Son, this isn't the life you want. Believe me. Drink the animal blood, okay?" Dean nods, and Benny settles down. Dean's deceptively graceful as moves to grab the blood. He's always been a hunter, but now it's all what sort of _thing_ he is, too. The chain pulls tight, and Benny's chair is rattled as he lurches forward to stop him. Benny's a fighter, always has been, and yanks back on their connection, throwing Dean off balance, and jumping onto him, straddling him and tossing the bag away. "Ain't you getting a little tired of this tango, Dean?" he demands, staring down, trying to still the writhing. That's when he notices. Two things add together very quickly. One, Dean's fangs are bared, but his eyes are rolled back like he's struggling to keep together. Secondly, the leg between Dean's, to keep him held down with only a knee, is being rutted against. Benny is fascinated by his powerless monster. Dean whimpers slightly as Benny grabs the bottle of animal's blood, dipping his fingers into it, pinning Dean's throat. "Stay still, boy," he commands, and Dean does, green eyes finally flickering up to Benny's face. Even vampire, it's hard to see him past the shadows. The blood is like ink, and Dean's perfect lips are a canvas. He watches the little rivulet drop down, and the fangs don't scare him as Benny parts them. "Fangs away. Concentrate, or I leave you without food tonight, hm, Dean?" After a visible war, they're retracted. Benny drops the fingers. Mouth is cold, and the lips are a little dry, tugged by Benny's fingers. Then, comes the lapping tongue. Benny shivers as he watches. Cleaning away every offered morsel. Then, Benny makes a snap decision. His hand slides down, fumbling with denim, and then shoving down Dean's jeans off his hips. He whines again with the harshness, it's all stifled.  
"Please, Benny."  
"Like that, do you, boy?" Benny asks, leaning down against Dean's cold ear, barely breathing the words. His breath is blood and danger. His beard scratches against Dean's cheekbones. Almost a kiss, but not quite. Benny ducks away, still keeping the grip, but when he's back his fingers parting Dean's lips are red again. The lower hand guides Dean's cock into a lazy rhythm, but that's all Dean needs in this hypersensitive state. It's almost throbbing, and he can't move his hips enough to get more. That's all he can think, as his saliva is all over Benny's fingers. More. More. _More_. Dean sucks and groans around them, and Benny grins down with a twisted look in his eyes. He fetches more pig blood, this time dribbling it into Dean's mouth. He stops when Dean squirms again, trying to move his hands to reciprocate. Benny keeps him grappled to the seriously unhygienic motel floor. He growls harshly: "You owe me. Still."  
"...please, wanna touch you, I want you to fuck me." Dean whimpers, squirms, and the previously analytic blue eyes barely have time to widen with shock before Dean's finishing all over his stomach, his fangs flashing. His body arches as if shocked, every hair standing on end, writhing and whimpering as Benny climbs off and takes him into the shower. He strips Dean out of his last clothes while he's in the pliable state, and despite what they just did, and said, he pointedly looks away as he stands at the end of the chain by the shower. He watches steam curl under the doorway opposite. One blue tile is cracked right down the center, a worrying line of green mold taking over the gap. When the water is off and the thin towel is grabbed, Dean doesn't try to touch him, talk him into anything else. Dean's shower was too hot, and he seems to have scrubbed himself raw. Benny doesn't comment. He's beginning to think Dean's feeling a victim, and begins to rattle off an internal tirade about the sort of monster he is to take advantage of his friend like that, when he gets a clasp on the arm.  
"Thanks for keeping me on the wagon, man," Dean says, casually, like that's all it was. Back to not dealing with anything. At least, that afternoon, Dean crawls up against him on the beds in his sleep. The mussed, still damp hair tucks under Benny's chin, and the lips fall against his neck, and Benny decides Dean's probably emotionally dependent on more people than he cares to admit. If Cas is one of them, so be it.


	5. Chapter 5

"What's gotten into you?" Benny asks, watching Dean's fingers drum the wheel as they speed down another vacant stretch of highway. Dying next evening, if all goes according to plan. Dean doesn't seem like the type to be sentimental about that sort of thing, not in Benny's standing of you.  
"I meant to get to Purgatory faster," Dean says, quietly, staring at the road. Benny's not really concerned about speed limits. Both of them being mass murderers by most sensible definitions, and driving in a car laden with unlicensed weaponry would probably be more of an issue, really, were any policeman unlucky enough to run into them. Still, Benny doesn't want to kill an innocent policeman, or policewoman, and he isn't much fond of the idea of Dean totalling himself on a tree.  
"To save that very same brother left you there for a year, am I correct in saying?"  
"You know what? Drop it. I won't talk about my shit and you don't talk about your head full of crazy, True Blood."  
"True Blood?"  
"I guess they don't have HBO in Monster Hell either," Dean says, shrugging, and stares ahead, foot creaking on the accelerator.  
"I don't have a head full of crazy," Benny says, disbelievingly raising an eyebrow as he leans back and watches Dean.  
"Right. The whole 'no touching' thing indicates perfect mental health," Dean replies sotto voce, but Benny hears him anyway. Genuine upset crosses his features before he makes a little sound of derision and folds his arms.  
"You have your roads you don't want gone down, I have mine, boy. You don't want to breech this discussion unless you're willing to have that very mirror turned on yourself." Dean looks like he's certainly not ready to discuss sex, so he drums his fingers again, looking almost afraid of the power Benny has over him now. Extortion would be the word for it. If Dean was feeling unkind, which he just might be. He's tightly sprung, wound up by days without being able to just fight to save his brother. He taps his fingers against the wheel. There's the clinking of his ring hitting plastic. The car air feels thicker, like Benny would need to part it like treacle in order to speak. "Look, Dean. Not gonna go into depth, but before Andrea, I was married. I had a kid I never got to even see before I was turned. Missed the birth by a few months. Then my maker wasn't exactly great to those he had personal interest in, if you catch my... my meaning. Then, Andrea. Followed by 50 years of not a touch that wasn't an attempt to kill me. Then Andrea again. Believe me when I say I'm not exactly having great luck there. People being intimate with me ends badly."  
"...that sucks, okay? That really, seriously sucks. Please tell me you're not just going to turn around the sign and give up, though. I mean, Sam would never get lucky ever. That dude's had it rough when it comes to getting involved with people."  
"When did this become about your brother, Dean?"  
"Look, my point is, you're not ruined for it. You're good, and kind, and any one would be a lucky son of a bitch to have you, okay? Chin up. You're gonna meet someone who will make it all make sense. You'll get your fairy tale."  
"I thought my fairy tale was Andrea."  
"I thought mine was Lisa," Dean says in a pained tone, shrugs in a dismissive manner. "It doesn't matter what you thought. Come on, Benny. You're a vampire pirate. Everyone wants to screw a pirate. You saw Jack Sparrow. Ladies loved him."  
"...Jack... is this those animated films you got annoyed that I hadn't-"  
"It's not freaking Bambi, okay? That was a joke."  
"I watched that when I got topside," Benny says, disgruntled, but there's a flooding warmth in his chest to hear Dean speak so highly of him. "Not an actual sparrow?"  
"I promise, when me and Sam and you and... and whoever else get out, okay, we're gonna watch Pirates of the Caribbean. Drinks all round. Rum," Dean promises, looking joyful, and finally breaking a grin. "You've gotta see the zombie pirates, man. They're-" and the car swerves dangerously as Benny slides over, puts his arm around Dean's shoulders and kisses his neck softly, a trailing kiss over exposed skin. "AH, _FUCK_ , Benny, do you want me to crash and kill us?"  
"Vampires, fool. The only thing that could happen would be the car gets totalled, we walks the rest of the way to the woods."  
"The _only_ thing? The only thing? My baby gets herself smashed to pieces, and that's the _only_ thing?" Dean asks, hysterically, and Benny kisses him again. No swerving, or swearing, this time. Dean glares over, unmoved, until Benny speaks in a soft voice.  
"Thank you, Dean. I want to do that. I really do. I want to make it."  
"Okay, no chick flick moments," Dean mutters, looking up and then back at the road and scowling. Benny can see that threatening grin in his lips. It dances delicately, and Benny could write poetry about the way Dean's skin looks like it's glowing in the moonlight. If he were that way inclined. No "chick-flick moments", whatever that means. He learned long ago to smile and nod at the other language Dean spouts sometimes.  
  
  
"Sam's not well," Dean murmurs in explanation, but not until they're lying in two single beds jammed together, cold chain resting between them.  
"...you're worried about him not being able to hold his own in Purgatory?"  
"Yeah."  
A hand slides out in the dark, and Dean feels a brush of fingers through his hair. "Tonight, kid. I promise. In the most comforting way possible, tonight we kill ourselves."  
"Thanks, Benny. If a freaking possum eats my arm I'm going to be royally pissed."  
"Brought me back with just bones, Dean. Relax a little. You'll be whole and pretty as new, Doe Eyes."  
"Benny?" Dean asks, frowning. The struggle in his thoughts is apparent as he sits up. He runs a hand down the stubble he hasn't had to deal with since he's been turned. "Can you not tell Sam about us? Not right now? Please?"  
"...shameful? Is it the fangs or the fact I'm a man?" Benny asks, grumpy, rolling over away, and Dean's hand is gentle on his back.  
"I don't want him to have any more reasons to distance himself from me, while I'm a vamp. When I'm cured... we'll..." Dean trails off. Nothing close to an actual relationship, is it? Maybe it's just pushing the lines of comfort. He runs fingers across the wide lines of Benny's back, who stays stoic and unresponsive. "Don't be mad."  
"Nothing I ain't used to. Go to sleep, boy."  
Dean tucks himself at Benny's back, feeling smaller than he has in some time. Eventually, Benny rolls over. The chain jangles as he flicks it off, trying not to tie himself up. He puts an arm around Dean, kisses his hair. The two cold bodies slot into one whole shape of too many limbs.  
  
  
They drive towards their doom joking and laughing.  Dean insists on blasting AC/DC, and Benny tuts about how much better jazz is than this new music. They are men of bravado and attitude. They die brave and brash. This death is just the next leg of their journey. Dean drinks more animal blood, now used to it. His mouth twitches, nose wrinkling into a grimace of distaste. Benny's sure he's never seen anything so adorable in his whole life. They stop in at a hardware store, or Benny does, in the early morning, coat turned up against sun. Dean remains in the car, cuffed to his seat, cheeks flushed with outrage. Razor wire and a shovel. If Benny was thinking clearly he'd see how ominous those purchases were. Like he's killing someone. Well, that _is_ the plan. They drive as far as they can into the wilderness, walk the rest of the way in solemn silence. Dean tells him the spot, after staring at trees hard, trying to decide whether or not this is the first of Earth he saw. Together, they tie the wire in two nooses, dig a protective grave to keep themselves in. Nice and painless. Benny's ready to die without melodrama, but Dean's clearly itching to say something.  
"If something goes wrong. here, you don't go killing yourself, man? You're really great. And important. Okay? So don't kill yourself."  
"...Dean, I'm sorry, but you can't ask me to do anything sensible if you die."  
"Seriously, man. You can't put all of your eggs in one person."  
Benny's eyebrow shoots up. "Phrasing, please."  
"Right, okay, but you know what I freaking mean. If something goes wrong, and I don't make it, you gotta save Sam without me, okay? You promise."  
"Fine. If you promise that if I get pulled off into the underbrush by something that wants revenge on me, you make your own way with your family. Non-negotiable."  
"Fine," Dean says hotly, stares at Benny, and then leans forward and kisses Benny roughly. Benny falls off balance, taking a step back and Dean's fist goes into his coat, keeping him there. Finally, Benny kisses him back. His eyes close, and then they fall. The razor wire cuts cleanly, as they crumple into the grave. Holding hands, headless. The two vampires meet each other's eyes again in Purgatory. Purgatory tastes like carcasses and the sickly taste of old soil. Vampires taste everything, every trace palpable across the tongue. It's almost pleasantly familiar: the spread of leaf litter and repetitive, endless gloom. Death all around. Dean sees why, for something so eternally hungry, this place really is Hell.


	6. Chapter 6

"Did it always stink so bad?" Dean breathes after a few seconds. His blade's where he left it strapped to his chest. No gun- guns were more or less useless in this place. You leave monsters alone hungry for so long, you can no longer put them down with a bullet. They'll keep loping after you bleeding. A knife is better. You cut off their fucking head, see how they do trying to eat you. It's a sick, cold feeling in his stomach when he remembers that this time he's a monster too. He'd probably dwell on that longer, but Benny's throaty chuckle makes him look over.  
"Always, brother. Suck it in deep to those lungs, tell me if anything smells like a roast dinner."  
Dean does. His head spins with the numerous, complex information in the one breath. He understands now why Benny seemed to walk ahead of him. There's the decay in its rich tones, and above that, blood and viscera and salt of the constant warring of various monsters. The waxy, crisper notes of trees, the stale scent of hanging air. Then, something more. Something better, brighter, distant.  
"Sam," he says, after a moment, opening his green eyes bright. After a moment, he notices his fangs are out. Benny roughly manhandles him around, and the cuff that previously connected them is looped through his belt. Benny bends down, and jerks up the leg of Dean's jeans, mumbling with annoyance before he's managed to get the cuff loosely around his ankle. Benny stands again, shrugs off Dean's betrayed glare.  
"Ain't letting you go and take a chunk out of your brother, Dean, but fighting while we're stuck together is going to get us killed. Move around a little, test your mobility, okay?"  
"This is ridiculous. I can't run like this. Give me the fucking key."  
"That's the point, Dean. For now, I stay faster than you. That's just how it's gotta be, Sugar."  
"What is Sam going to think?"  
"That he's not getting eaten? And he should be damn grateful for it? Unless being a whiny little bitch runs in the family. This way," he mutters, scowling and fixing his cap. Dean emphasizes the limp as he follows. Benny's scowl deepens. He calls Dean a brat under his breath. They don't walk so close now, but they walk quicker than they did while Dean was human. Dean didn't notice at first, but after half an hour of nothing but the smack of feet on leaf litter, and the occasional distant figure, he begins to get it. Being a human here is different. Now, he's just like any one of them.  
  
  
The hike is long and unbroken by rest. Dean stops faking a limp and starts figuring out where to keep his arm so that he has close to full mobility, so that the chain doesn't annoy him tightening and snapping against his knee. He doesn't want to talk now. They might have remained silent, angry, unforgiving for weeks of journey, as stubborn as they are. In reality, it's closer to a full day they spend in mute and bitter. The scent of human wafts temptingly about them every step. They see monsters, but are ignored, given a berth. Everyone is heading in the more or less same direction anyway. Towards that singing siren, beckoning beyond the next fringe of trees, maybe. It's like a mirage. It seems so close, but they must have been racing along for hours, and still it eludes them. Dean has to think human, not food, though that's exactly what it smells like. Triple bacon cheeseburger. It's not, though. It's his baby brother. It's Sammy. He has to protect him. They're crossing a river when suddenly Benny goes rigid and wheels on Dean. Dean can't breathe with surprise. Then he does. That faint, tantalizing scent is suddenly a pounding need to chase. His fangs pop out without his permission. Blood.  
"Dean, calm down."  
"He's hurt-"  
"Calm the hell down, boy. I'm going ahead. You catch up when you can."  
"Give me the fucking key, Benny, or I _swear_ I will catch you and I will hurt you," Dean hisses back. Benny looks at him hard, and then runs. Dean hadn't realized how much Benny was holding out until he tries to follow, loping along at an an awkward pace, falling a few times as his hand is in the wrong place, and his foot can't keep up. He barks out swear words, picks up, and runs again. He doesn't notice anything following him. There's one thought consuming him, something deeper than monster insticts, something fundamental to who Dean is. He has to be there to protect Sam. He has to protect his brother.

 

 

  
"Stop. Stop. He's a buddy of Dean's," Sam says, quickly, clutching at his neck where the cut is lying open. Benny stares back at the bearded man with mistrust. Always hated by the in-laws, he figures.  
"A buddy?"  
"A _good_ buddy," Benny almost taunts, pulling the blade out of the Leviathan and kicking the head apart like he'd done so many times. He eyes Sam up. There was a bite, yes, but it looked shallow. Not going to drop dead yet. Dean will be overjoyed. "Who just saved your lily-white asses, if you felt an overwhelming urge to act civil and thank me."  
"Boy, you two really went off the rails, didn't ya?" Bobby says, raising his stolen weapon. Benny laughs, croaky and confrontational, but he turns to Sam.  
"I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but we've got more important things to deal with than your mindless bigotry. Your brother was very much set on coming along too."  
"You came with a reaper?"  
"No. We didn't. We got here the same way, you see." Sam stares in confused shock. Benny can't help but want to hit his forehead. Wasn't this boy supposed to be smart? Wasn't he going to law school? Bobby gets it first, and looks up in shocked horror.  
"That idjit. That goddamn _idjit_. I am going to hide him. Where is he?"  
"You turned him?" Sam demands, and though he looks sick and pallid, he's still frightening when he's this furious.  
"That is a damn good question. The first one," Benny says, looking back into the forest and scowling heavily. "The second question was stupid. No offence, Sammy. He should have caught up while we've all been yapping."  
"If you've let him get hurt-"  
"You'll what, boy?" Benny asks, fangs once again exposed. "I'm your only way out. You'll show me human courtesy, or I don't care how much your brother dotes on you. Dean should have caught up. I made sure he couldn't run. Cuffed his hand to his ankle on a chain."  
"So. You left him defenceless and something attacked him? And I'm the stupid one?" Sam asks, incredulously. Benny scowls right back, turns and runs back the way he came, the two men following embarrassingly, humanly slowly. Even the vampire is too late to find anything except the evidence of a fight, and more worryingly, splashes of blood from several different vamps across the leaf litter.

 

 

  
  
"You must be Benjamin's new friend," the Old Man says is his sallow, falsely cheery manner. He squats down to look Dean in the eyes. Dean's sunk into a heap, where his arms are slung loosely around the tree his back is pressed uncomfortably against. He is bleeding a lot. "And you're very new, very young, aren't you?"  
"Said the relic," Dean shoots back, quickly. There's blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth, thick rivulets, and his fangs are out as he glares up.  
"The relic? Oh, you have Benjamin's attitude. But none of his finesse. He would have said something much more clever. Probably quoted Mark Twain." Dean hates how close the old vampire is, hates how his fingers are lingering over the split on his cheek.  
"That's the hunter that killed me," says one of the vampires who took the first turn in acquainting his face with the forest floor. Dean gives a proud nod.  
"Peace, Horace, we will deal with him in time. First, he will tell us how Benjamin got himself out in the first place." Dean's eyes have a different look now. He stares up, at the knife levelled at him, and bares his fangs more, snapping at Benny's maker like a rabid dog. The Old Man regards the action coldly. He grabs Dean's chin with a hand that is both icy and unbreakable. "Behave, child."  
"You think you scare me? I've stared the Devil down, you sad, little man. Cut away all you want. I'll remember it, every second of it, and you're going to go through ten times worse," Dean hisses through a mouthful of fangs. He shocks them into silence, even the ancient vampire. There's only the tiny rustle of trees, a few murmurs from the wide circle of onlooking vampires. Then, the Old Man laughs.  
"Let us see how that attitude endures, shall we? The fangs first. Try not to cut out the tongue, we need him to be able to tell us," he says, handing the knife to another. He never does his own dirty work. "I think that is the last morsel of rudeness I can stomach from this one."


	7. Chapter 7

Benny's still scoping out the area when the humans catch up, both with drawn weapons, both looking about as eager to kill him as anyone else in this place. Benny sizes them up for a fight, quickly. The old man seems to be in fair shape, but not much on Benny. Sam might be a terrifying hulk of a man at his best, but he looks as healthy as a ham three months after its expiration date. There's something markedly unhealthy, even if his blood smells like it would make a fine meal anyway.  
"Where is he?" Sam asks. He's swaying, very subtly, but a vampire notices that sort of thing. Benny shrugs and begins deciding what happened. Dean was dragged here, sliced open one of them, another. Something grabbed the chain and threw him into a tree, and then the ground. He steps carefully over a pool of blood, grimacing.  
"That way. I'm faster than you. I'll go."  
"Like hell you will. As far as I know, this is a trap. You and your buddies set this up looking for an easy meal," Bobby snaps. Benny rounds on him with a sharp glare.  
"That's why I saved you, huh? While you were knocked down defenceless by a monster? I could have got a feed plenty easy if I'd wanted to."  
"You think we ain't killed monsters just fine before on our own?"  
Benny gives another cold, exasperated laugh. "I'm not your ordinary monster, grandpa-"  
"Enough. We'll go after Dean together. No more arguing," Sam snaps, swiping back lank hair and taking off unsteadily in the general direction Benny pointed. There's a frustrated groan from Benny, not quite willing to break his word to Dean. It's tempting, but he just marches ahead of them, and prays Dean has the sense to keep himself alive.  
  
  
He's barely had time to grow frustrated at how slow Sam and the other man (Bobby, he thinks, but he doesn't need to know their names) when he hears the first choked scream. It's loud, sudden, and then just as suddenly gone. Chilling, and strangled like the person screaming is trying their best not to let a sound out. That's Dean all over. He thinks it might have been his name. He starts to run, ignoring a shouted question from Sam. He doesn't think about the fact he is back to being one vampire against scores of others. There's no room for reason, there's only that desperate urge to save Dean. His feet can't take him fast enough. He skids across leaf litter, kicking up patches of green and grey. Behind him they fall wetly down from where they were scuffed up into the air. He careers around a stooping, rotting stump and listens again. He runs again, though there's no more sound. Boots skid, thump. Benny is annoyed by his own noisiness, interfering with his senses. His footfalls grow lighter as he slows, glancing around in all directions. The complexity of his senses overwhelms him, and he has to try to isolate something that might be Dean. Then, worse, he smells it. Not like a human, not immediate and all encompassing, but still blood. He takes off in that direction, spotting a thin trail of drips leading away. He's expecting to face off a whole mob of vampires, but it's only one. Benny wouldn't know, but Dean had killed him face to face. Benny sees him standing, hunkered down over the red wreck of a body. The vampire stands, and the body twitches as the long, serrated blade jerks its way out of the bloody, viscera soaked back. Benny recognizes the smell, the clothing, the shape, but it can't be Dean. It can't be. The vampire looks up delightedly from where he's slicing into Dean's flayed body.  
  
  
"Heard you were buddied up with a hunter, Benny, man, but I didn't think you'd turn him into a pretty little bloodslut for you to keep permanently." Horror creeps into Benny's face, drowning him in despair. He seems to inhale it, chokes, struggles to speak. Then, almost unbelievably, he hears a quiet, strangled laugh.  
"You think I'm _pretty_?" Dean slurs into the ground, one stripped, bloody arm moving to try to pull himself up. "Benny, he thinks I'm pretty-"  
"Shut up, Dean," Benny says, exasperation and crushing emotion filling his voice. One vampire. He can kill one vampire easily. He steps forward, blade raised, eyes teary. Dean's fingers latch around the ankle and as the vampire looks down to see what's holding him, Benny beheads him. His lips pull to an ugly snarl, and his chest tightens. He lets out a wracking sob as he kneels. "Who was it? My maker, did you... do you know who-" he whispers, trying to pull Dean up.  
"Your maker is the one with the annoying voice, kinda weedy looking, superiority complex?" Dean asks, but he barely makes the words legible. It becomes apparent why as Benny turns him over. His mouth is red all over with spilled blood, beautiful lips marked by vicious slices. Someone tried to cut out his fangs, right out of his gums. Benny's eyes widen again. His shirt is open and there's flesh off right down to the bone of his ribs. Even the weird tattoo is sliced right through, but vampires need to lose a lot of blood to pass out. It's still dribbling out of him, Benny can see that. His wounds are clogged with the dirt he was shoved into. Benny's tears roll their way down, now, unbidden. Dean's eyes stay closed. He's having trouble staying awake now.  
"I'm going to get you home, kid, I promise," Benny whispers, smoothing back the blood soaked hair. He's not even sure he believes the words. Dean's going to pass out soon, and there's no guarantee he'll last long enough to make it to the portal. Even then, to be made human again would kill him in this state. "I promise, man, you and I are going to-" and he's silent. Sam's blade rests at his throat. There's no fury like Sam seeing Dean cut to pieces like this. That cold gaze in his eyes makes his illness seem like nothing. This is a wrathful giant who could destroy deities and worlds without a glance back.  
"What happened to him _?_ " Sam demands venomously. Benny swallows, and he really, _really_ hopes Dean's up to an explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow thank you so much for the very kind comments. i'm going through a bit of a bad time, but you guys really motivate me!


	8. Chapter 8

"Dean? Dean, you mind telling your brother that I didn't have a hand in this?" Benny asks, softly, smoothing Dean's hair back. It's no use. His eyes have rolled back, and his breathing is very weak. Benny's decision is almost instantaneous. "Sam, you've got to give him blood. So he can heal."  
"And make him a vampire forever?" Bobby asks, suddenly finding his voice, scowling. "Dean would rather die."  
"Would you rather he die?" Benny counters. "You gonna turn him human in this state, then? Because he ain't gonna even make it back unless we-"  
"There's no 'we'. Watch your tone, vampire," Bobby snaps. Sam's blade slides away from Benny's neck, all the same, and to his own arm.  
"He can't die."  
"Sam, stop that right now," Bobby growls. "What the hell do you think he'll do the moment he wakes up to a face full of pointies, huh, idjit? Boy will kill himself. No decent person wants to live a monster."  
"He'll be fine," Benny growls, looking up from where he's cradling Dean. "You shut your dumb, hick mouth before I gag you with your fucking hat."  
"Look who is talking-" Bobby says, but Sam has stepped aside, forward. He slits a spot on his arm, kneeling to cradle Dean's battered body. Bobby starts forward, but the moment's Dean's centre of gravity shifts to Sam, Benny gets up to his feet and throws Bobby back several feet onto his ass. As he's trying to stand, Dean's broken fangs half-extend. Sam's blood dribbles between his lips and his gums, never quite making it down his throat. Tears drip off the end of Sam's nose, onto Dean's skin, and he doesn't notice anything. Bobby struggles up just in time to see Dean's eyes open.  
"Dean? Dean?" Sam whispers. He smooths his bloody hair back. He's about to say something more when he lets out a shout of surprise. Dean's grip is crushing, bruising, and he bites Sam's arm with a mindless thirst. Sam begins recoiling, but Benny's covered the ground to grab Dean by the back of his neck, and throw him off down. His mouth is ringed with fresh blood. Benny knocks Dean down, pulling his arm up behind his back, knee right on his spine, almost merciless in stilling him. Benny swears he can see the flesh knitting together.  He's clearly regathering his mental faculties, even as he struggles to throw Benny's weight one way or the other. The dirt of the ground is in all his wounds, but they seem to fix themselves pretty quickly. He'd got a fair few mouthfuls, Benny can tell.  
"I'm hungry-" Dean whines, urgently.  
"For Sam?" Benny asks, fighting to keep Dean in place. Dean suddenly goes deathly still.  
  
  
  
"Sammy? Sam, did I-"  
"I'm okay. I've had worse bites," Sam mutters, trying to staunch the dribbling red dotting the forest floor.  
"Benny? Shit, shit. You let me feed on human?"  
"You weren't gonna make it otherwise," Benny says, though he certainly sounds guilty. He hoists Dean up, begins brushing away dirt from his face, blood too. He pulls another handkerchief out, though he extends it to Sam. "Bandage yourself up, we're getting out of here, I promise-"  
"Bobby, no!" Dean growls, noticing the older man advance with his blade, eyes on Benny's vulnerable neck.  
"That monster just made you one of them, Dean. No cure. How is this gonna be any different than before?"  
"Benny is absolutely proof that you can be a vampire and a good person," Dean says, quietly. "Also. Good to see you, Bobby," he adds, eyes wide. Benny's honestly surprised. He expected a tirade. A punch, at least. Dean hates vampires, that's fairly evident to him. He's spent his whole life hunting them. Calm acceptance was not high on Benny's mental list of likely outcomes. Dean steps away from him, plugging his nose, and putting an arm under Sam. "No fighting, okay? Not now."  
"You bit me," Sam whispered, dizzy with blood loss. He laughs hysterically, and Dean shakes his head at the sound of it, and just tugs him more upright.  
"I wish you didn't smell exactly like a mom's soup," he complains, but there's a dry humour to it now. Benny's on edge seeing him so close, but Dean's love for Sam keeps him from ripping out a throat, no matter how tempting it might smell. Besides, he's not as new as he was. He's learning to control himself. Benny's heart surges with pride before Dean looks to him, green eyes wide and full of trust again. "You gonna point us where to head, then?"  
"...if you try to bite him again, I am gonna make you wear a muzzle the rest of the walk."  
"You wound me," Dean murmurs. "Almost as much as your skeezy maker. Look, I think he gave up getting the information out of me. I think they'll try to follow us to get out. They think we have a secret door, a spell." Benny nods, and looks around, trying to get his bearings. A couple of subtle clues. He paces for a second, then points.  
"We do it all quick enough, you can get through, and we'll deal with the rest of it."  
"You've got a plan?" Dean asks, wincing when a particular strong waft of Sam's blood heads his way.  
"Well, let's just say that even my maker is afraid of Leviathan."  
"I am, too, afraid of Leviathan," Sam says, with that odd chuckle of blood loss.  
"Alright, Sammy, keep your trap shut and get your feet onto walking," Dean murmurs, every inch a firm older brother.  
"Leading Leviathan to us is suicide," Bobby says sharply.  
"They're coming one way or another, old man. Might as well use it advantageously. Keep up," Benny says, turning, and his eyes narrow with heavy thought. Bobby looks like he wants to complain again, and then he just trips to keep up at Benny's pacing march towards their way out.  
  
  
The forest of Purgatory is dank and dark, and in every direction Dean hears phantom noises. Sam's worried, clearly, about his own blood attracting something likely to eat them all. He keeps staring into the darkness in a twitchy, paranoid manner. Dean's fingers tighten around him, not that the new vampire is doing any better. Benny handed over his coat (Dean's clothing is all shredded) and Dean cowers within it, occasionally showing that he's not so fine after all. He'll flinch, every so often, tiny gestures that only a vampire could see. Benny watches him doggedly from his peripherals, and offers comforting smiles over his shoulder, but mainly he scowls. He knows that they are being followed. His nest traipsing along behind them, right up to the doorway. Sam's going to be on his own for that, theoretically. He knows that isn't going to work. No choice, right? He'll stay, face his nest. Let them all go on, make sure Sam makes it through.  It's not very pleasant to think about, the eternity he'll face. He'd like to kill his maker again, just to have a chance to tear apart that vampire that hurt Dean. Benny's stomach is a knot, a mess of protective rage and ancient anger. Luckily, Dean's too worried about keeping Sam upright to connect any of the dots.


End file.
